Black Aeon

Chapter Six

Talking With Fire

"Malfoy! I want a word with you, now!" As she watched the blond Slytherin turn around warily, she threw the broken pieces of sword into his face, and as he looked up again, her fist had already pulled back, encased in translucent green fire. As it connected with the blonds' face, he screamed, and she smelt burnt hair. Behind her, she could hear her brother calling her name. Some weird energy was pumping through her. And she liked it.

*

"Sh, she's waking up. Bloody hell, how did she move so fast? Did she Apparate?"

"Urgh... Hunter, how many times do I have to tell you? You cannot Apparate or Disapparate inside Hogwarts. Please will you read Hogwarts; A History?"

"What would be the point? You know it off by heart, Jacob- me- love; I'd just be wasting valuable Malfoy bashing time."

Wylow groaned faintly, and opened her eyes. Bugger; she was in the hospital wing. This had to be some sort of record, getting yourself into the hospital wing on the first week of school. Oh, no, wait; she had put Malfoy in the hospital wing as well. Dammit, and he had probably been carried in first, the arrogant bastard. Hunter, Arielle and Jacob were all leaning over her, looking worried and a little amused.

"Rise and shine sweetheart, you can't sleep all day." She licked her lips, which were horribly dry, before replying.

"Why not, pray tell?"

"Because you have some tests that Madam Pomfrey wants to carry out, and you simply can miss those."

"Oh joy... there is one problem though."

"What?"

"I don't seem able to sit up. Help?" Hunter laughed, and used her proffered fore arms to haul her up into a sitting position. For a moment, the room swam in her vision, and then settled down into its usual still self. She rubbed her left eye with her hand, feeling the slightly raised line of the scar as she did so. She knew she shouldn't be this tired, but she couldn't help it.

"How long have I been out for?"

"Oh, about seven hours. You missed all of your afternoon classes, and dinner. Lucky for you, we wrote down all of your homework. AND made up an excuse as to why we weren't in all morning and the start of this afternoon."

"Woop de do, thanks for the homework. What would I do without three foot of parchment to write how to turn an anchovy into a pizza on? I don't think I could live without it!"

"Alright, you're definitely not suffering any permanent damage; you're already being sarcastic!" Before Wylow could reply cuttingly, Madam Pomfrey walked in. The Medi- Witch gave her a 'look', and set down the potion she had with her.

"Well young lady, I haven't had so much trouble with a student since your mother was here in her seventh year. Lord knows, before then she was rarely in here for more then a Pepper Up potion when she felt a little under the weather, but when she hit seventeen... The amount of time was astonishing. And she attacked my assistant! But any way, let's have a look at you." The Nurse took hold of Wylow's wrist and felt her pulse while timing the beats on a little clock she kept fastened to the front pocket on her robes. "Hmm... Pulse is a little slow, but otherwise perfectly fine. Now, be a good girl and take this potion for me. Yes, you DO have to. And to take it you have to actually open your mouth. That's a poppet." Wylow glared at the woman as she swallowed the disgusting liquid that seemed to wriggle rather then slide down her throat. The Medi- Witch pursed her lips, and fixed the young Slytherin with a look. "Now miss, what's this I hear from Mr. Carlisle and a certain accident in Diagon Alley that you failed to tell any one about?" Oh shite. Bloody Hunter; why couldn't he keep his mouth shut for once?

~

Harry was staring at his hand, examining it. It was a large hand, lightly brown and calloused from hard Quidditch training over the years since his first year. The size of his hands indicated that he was in for a growth spurt soon. Good, he was tired of being a seventeen year old midget. Mind you, according to the giggling girls of the school, the size of a guys hand when held up with the fingers straight and the thumb bent to the side showed you how big his... never mind. But nothing indicated how on earth he had managed to throw Hermione's book across the room without using his wand or conscious magic. After all, wasn't your magic supposed to get under control after you got your wand?

He had started thinking about it again after he had seen 'Ganie burst into green flames while beating the crap out of Malfoy. That had been rather frightening; especially when it turned out that she didn't have a mark on her. But Harry wasn't turning into a human torch or anything, or moving faster than a Jaguar on speed; he was just throwing things around the room and annoying portraits. But that in it self was odd. He had never shown signs of telekinesis before, so why now, after he had turned seventeen? And the power didn't feel... right some how. It felt out of place, and stung when it was used. Also (and he honestly didn't understand this) it felt like a feminine power. But how magic could be feminine, he had no idea. It couldn't, could it? He had thrown other things around, other then the book that he had plucked out of Hermione's hands; there had been a vase, a dinner plate, a cauldron, and one of the axes that a suit of armour had been holding. Of course, he had ended up being scolded by the armour, and then having an argument with it, before Ron had stopped him.

He sighed, and rubbed his hands together as though he was trying to warm them up. Gryffindor Common Room was warm enough, but he had suddenly felt a shiver down his spine. His left hand idly went up to his earlobe, and he tugged absentmindedly at the hoop that went through his flesh. When 'Ganie had had another earring, bringing her total up to six, pierced through her ear in the summer after their fifth year, she had taken Harry with her to hold her hand, as she had never gone without some one being there before, Harry had immediately been seized with the desire to have his own ear pierced. So he had, much to 'Ganie's delight and Hermione's horror. Since then, there had been a small, but constant battle between the two girls over who dominated Harry's life more, Hermione, his best friend since he was eleven, or 'Ganie, his twin sister, known since he was thirteen. Not that he would ever tell Hermione, who liked to consider herself the one who was in charge, but Harry would have to say that it was 'Ganie. But that was irrelevant.

What was going on with the two of them? True, he wasn't going through half of what 'Ganie was going through, but he still didn't like it. He had enough on his plate as it was, being the Boy Who Lived, having to kill Voldemort and pass his NEWT's in that year. Well, maybe not kill Voldemort that year, but it was an inevitable fact that wasn't going to go away. Everyone expected him to be very brave and heroic, and, as 'Ganie's humour would put it, stand a heroic pose over the body of his fallen enemy as the photographers took picture after picture of Gryffindors' Golden Boy. But, if truth be told, he didn't feel brave or heroic, and he didn't like having his picture taken. He was more likely to tremble the whole way through the final battle, goodness and peace far from his mind as he cast spell after spell to defeat his enemy; he would be casting the spells so that his enemy didn't cast them back and hurt him!

As he tugged too hard on the sleeper hoop that he had been twisting around and around, the sharp pain it caused brought him back to the real world, where people were staring at him. He looked around apprehensively.

"...What?" Hermione shook her head from where she had raised it from her book.

"You were muttering to yourself. Rather constantly, and loudly. But incoherently as well. If you're going to have conversations with yourself, then do so in your head, or let the rest of us hear what you have to say." Harry glared good naturedly at the girl who was possibly the bossiest in the school.

"Oh, shut up 'Mione," he said, flicking his hand at her book, which plucked itself out of her hand, snapped shut, and tapped her on the head. As he did so, his temples strung sharply as though he was being pricked by a thorn from the inside of his skull. Hermione glared at him, and snatched her book out of the air. It was then that Harry realized something; he had moved something, and controlled what he was doing. This was something new, and rather frightening. He jumped out of his seat, and, robes billowing behind him in a rather Snape like way, strode out of the Common Room, leaving people to stare at his back.

*

His sister was sitting up in the hospital bed, a medley of different potions bottles beside her. She was also knitting. It was a little known fact that Morgan Wylow Potter knew how to knit; it didn't suit her image at all. But she had learnt when she was going through an incredibly stereotypical nineteen fifties girl phase when she was seven, and she now found it relaxing. Harry grinned when he thought of the neatly knitted scarf in his trunk; his was a brighter red and yellow then the others, which were more burgundy and ochre. 'Ganie had merely smiled when informed of this, and said that there were two reasons. The first was that her brother was a bright star among the dullness of the Gryffindor house, so his colours would be so. The second was that she couldn't resist taking the piss out of the Gryffindor House colours. Red and gold; honestly! (Cue evil cackling). As Harry tapped on the doorframe and coughed slightly, she looked up, and grinned, the scar tissue over her eye wrinkling a tiny bit as she did so. He wasn't the only one with a scar from Voldemort anymore, he thought as he crossed over to his sister's bed side.

"Hey 'Ganie. How are you this fine day? Baring up well?" She shrugged, and pulled on the length of wool that stretched between the scarf forming on her needles and the ball of white wool rolling around on the floor like a demented ferret. Like Malfoy when he was trying to avoid her fists, Harry remembered with a gleeful mental chuckle.

"I'm as good as can be expected, having been unconscious for seven hours, then having about twelve medical examinations to try and determine why I've suddenly become a Pyromancer. Oh, and I now have to take all of these every morning." She waved the would be scarf at the potions bottles at her bedside. Harry raised his eyebrows, and wriggled his nose to make his glasses stay on his face. This was odd.

"Um, why?" he picked one bottle up, and read the label. "'Ganie, what's going on? What aren't you telling me?" His twin sighed, and laid aside her work, making the over long sleeve of her pyjamas pull up on the right arm, revealing what looked remarkably like a tattooed snaked nose. But Harry decided to leave the questions about that for later. "Well? What aren't you telling me?" 'Ganie smiled weakly at him, and brushed her hair out of her eyes.

"Well... You remember what happened back in the summer holidays?"

"Yes, the... incident with the Death Eaters."

"Just say it Jay; I croaked. I was dead, gone, demised, and gone to meet my maker. I was a dead Witch." Harry felt the corners of his mouth twitch as he heard his not often used nickname come from his sisters' lips (He had made a nickname from her unused first name, so she had made one from his second name. But she hadn't used hers since their last Hogwarts year; maybe she was going to start again?), but didn't let himself get sidetracked.

"Ok, you died. So?"

"Well, as you know, when you die, your body and brain shuts down. I may have only been dead for, what four or five minutes?"

"Ten."

"Oh, ok, ten. I guess I was lucky nothing else happened then."

"What happened?"

"Oh yeah, I haven't told you yet, have I? Urgh, BLONDE!" she gave him what she obviously thought was a dazzling smile, but what actually a rather strained semi grimace. Some thing was definitely bothering her. "Um... Part of my brain... died. Permanently." Harry stared at her. She wasn't joking either.

"Which part?"

"The part which lets me see in colour."

"Oh, so not your memory part then? That would have been a good excuse as to why you didn't tell me; you forgot." The black haired Slytherin winced.

"I deserve that. I'm sorry Jay, I didn't want you treating me like an invalid." Harry sighed, took off his glasses and rubbed his eyes. He could see what she meant, and knew that he couldn't be really angry with her. Well, not really anyway.

"I just don't see why you didn't think you could tell me."

"I don't know... I don't know! I just didn't want you to pity me and look down on me because I would need people to tell me what colour I was wearing for the rest of my life because every bloody thing is black, white or some shade of grey and its all so bloody boring!" Harry stared at his twin as she drew in a deep breath. It was then that he realized that she had still been holding the scissors by the blades, and that they had been open. And 'Ganie clenched her fists when she was trying to control herself. Gently, he prised her hand open, and removed the offending article, and examined the weeping cut across her palm.

"Hmm, it could have been worse sis. This is easily sorted." He went over to Pomfreys' Lotions and Potions cupboard, as it was known as, and selected a 'Heal 'n' Seal 'em' lotion. He was aware of being watched constantly, and when he returned to his sisters side, and began to rub the lotion into her skin, his sister continued to watch him, not even flinching as her skin began to bubble and pour itself back over the wound. And gods, did Harry know how much that hurt; even he couldn't help whimpering whenever he had a wound sealed. "There we go, you're all done." He smiled at his twin, who gave a weak little twitch of the lips in return.

"I'm sorry Jay." He sighed, and brushed a lone tear off her cheek.

"I know you are. And I forgive you." That brought a smile to her face.

"Ahem... So, what did you come to see me about? It wasn't just to see how I was, now was it?" Harry couldn't help laughing.

"How well you know me! No, it wasn't. Look, you've been showing strange signs of magic; spontaneous combustion, lightning fast movement-"

"The ability to levitate three feet off the ground, changing into animals..."

"What?!"

"Didn't you know about those?" he glared at her innocent visage.

"Evidently not 'Ganie. But never mind that. It's just... I have too." 'Ganie blanched, and stared at him.

"WHAT?!"

"Oh, not to the same extent or anything! It's just... I've been moving things around with my mind. And before today, it was without intention. Hermione's book, a vase, a dinner plate, a cauldron, an axe... but today I actually controlled it." 'Ganie was staring at him like he was a mad man, but he continued. "But... it doesn't feel right. It's like... it isn't supposed to be mine, this telekinesis. It feels weird, like an implant-"

"Like the metal plating that's inside Wolverine in the X- men?"

"Yes, but I'll pretend you didn't say anything as geeky as that."

"Sorry." He smiled at her as she looked sheepish in revealing her secret love of cartoons, comics and sci-fi movies. Never let it be said that his twin, as darling to his heart as she was, wasn't slightly geeky.

"Anyway, I just thought you should know. Because, as you've been going through a lot more then me, I thought that you might know what's going on with us. Dumbledore might have told you something, maybe? As he thinks that its only you that this is happening to, and therefore would have talked to you about it, but not me as he doesn't think that its happening to me as well so he wouldn't talk to me but would talk to you..." he trailed off, realising that he was burbling rather badly as he was actually dreadfully nervous about what 'Ganie might say. What if she knew nothing, and couldn't help him? That would be terrible! But what if she knew something, and told him something he didn't want to know. That would be even worse, as it would mean that she knew something about him that even he didn't know, and he didn't like that idea at all. Or what if she knew something, but lied and said she didn't? That would tear him apart! God, even in his brain he was burbling. He was really sad sometimes. He looked at his sister, his younger, twin sister, as she stared down at her newly healed hand intently, as though it was the most fascinating thing on the planet. It reflected the way he had been sitting not that long ago, in his common room. He waited for her reply. Her voice was soft and slightly croaked when it finally came.

"I do know what's going on Jay. I've always known."